Great Britain -- History -- George III, 1760-1820 -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
"Oh, yes, that's all right; but you can't have it."
"Why not?"
"Because it's right down at the very bottom of my pocket, where there's
no getting at it at all. But you don't want it now?"
"No. I've sold the diamond necklace."
"No!"
"I have, to that old hag, Drelincourt."
"Did she pay you?"
"No; but we've got deeds worth four times as much, and I shall charge
her interest until she pays."
"Then you've had a splendid night, Jo-si-ah."
"Glorious!" he said, rubbing his hands.
"Then I want a rubber of whist, and I shall see if I can't win a few
guineas myself."
"All right. I'll get you to a table."
"Denville, old fellow," said Lord Carboro', chatting with his host and
taking snuff from the box given by the Prince, "I've a bad habit of
seeing everything that goes on around me."
"Your lordship is most observant."
"I'm sorry to say I am; and whether we become relatives or not,
Denville, I take an interest in you and your belongings."
The Master of the Ceremonies looked up in alarm.
"Take a bit of good advice, Denville."
"My lord!"
"And keep a tighter rein over your daughter."
"Your lordship's opinions seem to change easily," said Denville
bitterly. "The other day my daughter Claire--"
"Pooh! Absurd, man! Stop. She is perfect. A princess could not have
been a more charming hostess. I did not mean her. Look there!"
"Mrs Burnett with Sir Harry Payne?"
"Yes; the fellow's a blackguard. The little woman married a fool--"
"My lord!"
"Who neglects her for drink and play. Don't be offended, Denville. I
am your friend. You have had scandal enough in your family; you must
have no more."
Denville drew a long breath.
"Your lordship is right; but you must not misunderstand my dear child."
"Pretty, sweet, young, and most impressionable, Denville. Constant
dropping will wear a stone. Don't let the water drop on it any more."
"My lord, you may trust me."
"Stop, Denville. Another thing in confidence. You must get it back,
treating it all as an error."
"My lord, you alarm me. Get _it_ back?"
"I can't help it, Denville. Do you know that sometimes dashing fellows,
ruined by play, have gone on the road mounted and masked, and, pistol in
hand, have robbed?"
"Yes, my lord. But we have no highwaymen here."
"Don't be too sure. Did you know that Barclay, at my wish, brought some
jewellery?"
"Yes, but not at my wish, my lord! I felt aggrieved--insulted."
"Forgive him and me. It was at my request. I wanted to make an
offering--a string of pearls--to your daughter; and, like the sweet true
lady she is, she has refused to accept them."
Denville flushed and turned pale as he glanced proudly at his child,
where she stood talking to Colonel Mellersh.
"I saw Barclay give his wife a case with a diamond bracelet in it, to
hold while he went to old Drelincourt."
"Yes, my lord. What of that?"
"Mrs Barclay did not put it in her pocket, but let it slip down on the
carpet."
"Where was she seated, my lord?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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